Desert Riders

This is going to be a big one. Plus I am typing from an Arabic keyboard so bear with me.
Day 2:

Alex changing the hydraulic clutch in Venice.

We are finally loose on the European roads after a day in the ferry. First thing was to repair the hydraulic clutch pump of the 690. Alex took it apart, and reinstalled a new one out of the spare parts that we have with us. Of course this took some time which was precious at the moment. So we decided to make the best of it and started chasing ferries that head to Morocco, just to see if we could catch one. We missed the one from Genoa, Italy, so we headed into France. Did a social stop in Monaco just to ride on the tarmac of the Grand Prix, and from there headed to Sete, France. Of course we missed that one too. So we did another stop at Aix en Provence, had some nice local red wine with entrecote au poivre for dinner. From there we headed to a truck stop off the highway and slept for 3 hours (yes really). Got up at 3.30 am and headed towards Barcelona, Spain in order to catch the 3rd ferry. We made it 10 minutes before the gates were up!!! Total: 1.350 kilometers in 22 hours with 3 hours of sleep (on single cylinder engines, for those who understand what that means). Finally, Morocco is a reality.

Day 4:

I guess we are not the only ones after all.

Late in the afternoon we clear customs in Tangiers and head for the Atlas mountains to make the crossing over to the desert. We had planned to stay somewhere before nightfall, but a wrong call on my part had us going through dark roads in the night under rain. Yes, exactly what we should not be doing on day 1 on a foreign country. To make things worst, one day before was the bombing of the cafe in Marrakech, so the police had decided to put roadblocks all over the country. One of these blocks happened to be on our route, and there were also some wired spikes spread on half of the tarmac just to prevent anyone from running away (just like the ones you see in the movies). Problem was that the local police decided not to light the spikes or to have any means of signalling you that you should not be driving on that lane. Plus it was dark and rainy so vis was bad. Alex was first. He went through and blew his front tyre (just like the movies, yes they do work after all). I never saw Alex, but I did see a policeman waving a 12 gauge pump shotgun at me, and at the last moment saw the spikes as well so I braked as hard as I could and stopped right at the spike thing without any incident. What followed is rated out of content for this blog.

Alex changing tubes under not so favorable conditions

Sleeping on the dance floor. Yeah!!!!

We managed to take out the tire, change the tube and insert it again in the middle of the night under the rain. The policemen where ignorant at best (TIA). So we moved on and 10 minutes later found a road stop restaurant. The owner was kind enough to open an empty ball room where we placed the bikes and slept on the floor next to them. Sureal (and cold and wet as well).

Day 5:
We are finally in the desert after crossing some amazing scenery over the Atlas mountain ranges. We arrived late in the evening in the desert town of Merzouga, accessible only through 55 km of piste (piste is the French term for any desert roads that cross the desert, its origin probably goes back to the first desert rallyes, like the Paris Dakar, which were run by the French). This was our starting point for a longer piste that would get us all the way to Tagouinite.

Day 6:
This is what we came for. To cross sections of the desert. So this first part involves ca. 250 kilometers of piste, that crosses some really remote sections, and some less so. Winds were exceptionally high making visibility an issue. The riding was rather smooth in the beginning, with very few sandy sections, the rest being mostly hard pack with gravel, corrugations and dried chots (dried lake beds). That was until we reached a small village where we would have to negotiate 6 kilometers of small dunes.

Sandy smiles from the middle of the desert.

At that point we came across a Land Cruiser with some French and a guide that were driving from the opposite direction. They stopped us and told us that it was impossible even for the local guide to find the proper pass through the dunes, due to the extremely low visibility. It was blowing at sandstorm level at this point, which meant that in the dunes visibility was anywhere from 15 meters down to only 2. We decided to give it a go anyway, mostly relying on a very good GPS route that we had downloaded. It was HARD. The bikes were extremely heavy (due to the fact that we are carrying spare tires and extra oil, that we will use further south), and negotiating soft sand was mindboggling. Visibility was extremely bad, and sand was getting everywhere. There was no question of removing our goggles.

Try digging this one out!

We started falling over and over, each time stopping to help each other lift the bikes. At least it seemed that according to the GPS we were right on track. That was until the navigator (moi) missed a turn. This got us on another piste, which some kilometers down seemed to merge with our original one. And then it happened. We were in the middle of the desert in a dried chot, and it started raining. This transformed the chot into a slippery mud like substance that gave you the feeling of driving on ice. Of course we fell again, got up, and pushed on. On one these nasty falls the 690 got dragged along for a couple of meters. Rider was fine, but unfortunately one of the two side panniers had its bottom almost completely blown out. We did a quick job of patching it with some sling and went on. At some point the rain gods were merciful and the rain stopped. And everything around us dried up in seconds.

Riding through nothing...

The scenery changed, we were driving through open plains and it was amazing!!!! The skies went blue and everything was suddenly more inviting. All in a matter of hours. Just around nightfall we came across a small military post, very close to the Algerian border. The wind had picked up once again and we had to find a protected spot to set the tents. We asked the local commandante if we could hide behind one of the walls of the post, but he thought of it as a matter of national security and declined. In a polite way he pointed down to some scattered palm trees. With the last light falling behind us we found a thicket of palms that offered some protection from the gruelling wind. We did our best to pitch the tents and with the last grains of energy cooked some cous cous with vegetables for dinner. Inside the tents of course! What a day....

Day 7:

Our campsite after a hard day on the piste.

We woke up in some amazing scenery. The skies were clear and the wind had died to some extent. Temps were around 25 to 30 degrees, very pleasant indeed. Once we packed we met a group of Spaniards also doing the same piste on 4x4 so we tagged along. We only had 60km left, and the goal was to head to Marrakech which was another 430km of tarmac. What we did not take into consideration was that this tarmac lead through an elevation of 2250 meters, once again through the Atlas range. Once we got there it was almost getting dark. And guess what it was snowing too!!! We started driving through endless winding roads in a dark oued, averaging 20 to 25 km per hour, as it was rainy, foggy, cold and dark. There was not a single village in sight, and due to the low temperatures pitching a tent was out of the question. At some point around 10pm while we were getting really desperate we came across a village, perched high up the sides of the mountains. :Luckily there was a really shady Auberge (lots of alcohol in it, unusual for Morroco, and some private bar bussines with girls going on). They let us park the bikes inside a storage area, next to hundreds of emtpy beer bottles. Big fireplace in the dinning area was a real saviour too. After two gruelling days like these, some warmth, a shower, and some beer was the proper cure. Next stop is Marrakech were we decided to use it as a day off, to enjoy the town and relax. This country is full of surprises, one wonders what is next.